


In Which Everyone Dances At Each Other

by thewriterofperfectdisasters



Series: Various Prompts and Drabble Things [7]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Stripper!Mickey, WELL THEY'RE BOTH DANCERS BUT I CBF TAGGING THEM AS THAT, horribly written smut, stripper!Ian, this started off good
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2014-04-20
Packaged: 2018-01-20 03:03:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1494226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewriterofperfectdisasters/pseuds/thewriterofperfectdisasters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey thinks that Ian is an asshole, really. The guy has only been at the club for a couple of months, but he’s already one of the most popular dancers. That fact seems to have gone to his head, because Mickey has heard him boasting to other dancers how he thinks he’s the best at the club. Mickey disagrees. He’s obviously better.</p><p>In response to a prompt where Ian and Mickey are dancers at the same club and they both think they're better than each other. "Cue sexual tension and eventually some smut."</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Which Everyone Dances At Each Other

Mickey has been dancing at this club for about a year. He doesn’t mind this job, and he knows he’s good at it, so he doesn’t have any plans to jump ship. Sometimes he thinks about quitting when the balding and obviously closeted grey haired men get too handsy and try to get a good grope of him, but the rest of the time, he’s happy where he is.

Mickey is on good terms with all of the staff, except one of the other dancers. He dances under the name of ‘Curtis’, and he’s also heard people call him Red, but he was introduced to Mickey as Ian Gallagher.

Mickey thinks that Ian is an asshole, really. The guy has only been at the club for a couple of months, but he’s already one of the most popular dancers. That fact seems to have gone to his head, because Mickey has heard him boasting to other dancers how he thinks he’s the best at the club. Mickey disagrees. He’s obviously better.

One day, Ian comes up to Mickey while they’re waiting for the club to open. Ian is ready for the night - already changed, eyeliner on, and covered in a light layer of body glitter. He leans against the locker next to Mickey’s and smiles. ‘Hey.’

Mickey glanced at him and shoved his feet into his golden Docs. ‘Hey.’

'Your name's Mickey, right?' he asks with a tilt of his head. 'I'm Ian.'

'Yeah, I know who you are.' Mickey replies, busying himself with tying the laces. 'What do you want?'

'You're a pretty good dancer.'

'Yeah, I know.' Mickey straightened his stance. 'Better than you are.'

Ian laughed. ‘I’ve been told you were one of the highest earners before I came along.’

'I still am.' Mickey said, narrowing his eyes. 

'So would you be up for a bit of competition then? See who earns most tips tonight?'

Mickey thought for a moment. Tonight was a Saturday. Saturdays were usually his best night, as he had a bunch of regulars that came to see him and tipped him pretty well. ‘What’s the catch?’

'If you win,' Ian started, inspecting a fingernail. 'You get to keep the title of best dancer, and I give you… half my tips. If  _I_ win, then you get the title of second best dancer and go on a date with me.’

Mickey cocked an eyebrow. ‘Oh really?’

'Yup.'

'No.' Mickey replied, chucking body glitter on himself.

Ian frowned. ‘Why not?’

'Fuck off, I already  _know_ I’m the best dancer. Besides, I don’t do dates.’

'If you're the best dancer and think you're going to win-'

'I am.'

Ian ignored the interruption and continued. ‘Then you don’t have to worry about going on a date, do you?’

Mickey rolled his eyes. Stupid carrot top had a point. ‘Fine.’

Ian grinned. ‘You accept the challenge? Highest tipped is best dancer?’

'Yeah, yeah. Challenge accepted.'

 

* * *

 

Ian laughed to himself as he went out to his stage. He didn’t think Mickey would accept his bet. Ian was confident he would win - he had watched Mickey dance a few times whenever they were close enough, and couldn’t understand what Mickey’s appeal was.

He was an okay dancer, but Ian would definitely not say he was the best. Maybe it was the way Mickey carried himself that people found so worth paying for. That, Ian could concede, was something Mickey had that a lot of other dancers didn’t. He was muscular in a way that a lot of the others weren’t, and you could tell he had been through some bad shit by the scars that crisscrossed his skin. (Most interestingly, Ian noted, a healed scar that looked suspiciously like a bullet wound that would appear whenever the bottom hem of Mickey’s shorts rode up a bit too high.) Ian was sure the “FUCK U-UP” tattooed across his knuckles were a factor in how high he got tipped - maybe people were scared he would fuck them up if they didn’t. Or maybe that was part of the appeal. People were fucking weird.

As the club got fuller, Ian watched Mickey as he danced and interacted with the people gathered around him. There was a brief moment of concern for Mickey on Ian’s part when one particular guy slipped his hand around the Mickey’s waist and cupped his ass. Ian watched as Mickey stopped dancing, and crouched down to smile at the guy, before having a short conversation with handsy-man and clenching his hands into fists. The guy took a few steps backwards as he nodded emphatically, before turning and hightailing it out of the club. 

Mickey stood back up, rolled his shoulders and resumed dancing, like nothing had happened. Ian had heard other dancers talking about how Mickey dealt with people like that, and according to the stories they told, what he had just witnessed was the least violent he had ever gotten with a groper.

Ian was still staring at Mickey when he turned in his direction and started dancing at him. _Well,_  Ian thought.  _Two can play at that game._

He nodded at Mickey (receiving a nod back) and grinned. Ian started rolling his body so that the glitter caught the lights and thrusting his hips in Mickey’s direction. Ian laughed when Mickey flipped him off casually and started mirroring his moves.

While Mickey and Ian were doing this weird mating dance of theirs, tips were practically raining down on them. Mickey stopped a couple of times after getting groped again, while Ian simply ignored his own and got bouncers to deal with guys trying to cop a feel.

 

* * *

 

After their shifts had ended, Ian and Mickey changed back into their regular clothes and totaled up their tips. Ian grinned triumphantly after they announced their earnings and it was made official that he had made more money.

But only just. Mickey was $6 less than Ian.

Still, it meant that Mickey had to go on a date with Ian, and he cursed the moment that he thought this was a good idea.

 

* * *

 

It wasn’t much of a date, really. 

Mickey went to Ian’s house the next night, because neither of them worked Sundays. They ordered a pizza and sat on Ian’s couch drinking beer and watching a movie (Death Race - the only thing Ian owned that Mickey decided probably wasn’t total shit) while they waited for it to arrive.

The busload of female convicts had just arrived in the movie when the pizza (fucking finally) arrived. Ian got up and paid the delivery dude then passed a slice to Mickey.

It was a bit awkward between the two, sitting there on Ian’s tiny couch - seeing as they hadn’t actually talked much until the previous night. 

'Good pizza.' Ian said, in attempt to start some form of conversation. Mickey had discovered that Ian was pretty chilled when he wasn't at work, acting like a cocky asshole.

'Yeah.' Mickey agreed. 'I uh… Thanks.'

Ian shrugged. ‘Another beer?’ he asked, nodding towards Mickey’s almost empty bottle.

'That'd be great.'

When Ian came back and handed Mickey his beer, their fingers brushed and seemed somewhat reluctant to let go. It was only when Mickey cleared his throat that Ian dropped his fingers and sat back down on the couch.

Suddenly, as they watched the psychopathic warden arrange the deaths of her inmates, the silence between them became less awkward and more tense than anything.

Ian shifted closer to Mickey so that their thighs were touching. He thought it was subtle, but by the way Mickey looked at him, eyebrows almost touching his hairline, it must have been blatantly obvious.

'I gotta  _try_.’ Ian muttered.

Mickey chuckled and adjusted his position so that their legs were touching from hip all the way down to ankle. Now it was Ian’s turn to be surprised. He looked to Mickey, who just shrugged. ‘Good to know we’re on the same page, Firecrotch.’

They sat like that until near the end of the movie when the bomb was delivered to the warden (“Thank fuck she’s dead.” Mickey whooped). Ian moved his hand to rest on his knee and risked moving his hand to ghost it down Mickey’s leg.

Mickey trapped Ian’s hand with his own and turned to glare at him. Instead, after seeing the hope written across Ian’s face, he rolled his eyes and pulled Ian towards him.

It started off slow, because apparently Ian didn’t know what the fuck was happening, but once he caught on, he kissed Mickey back with fervour.

Mickey pulled away after a bit and cleared his throat. ‘Sorry.’

'What for?' Ian asked.

'I uh…' Mickey let go of Ian's hand. 'Did you want to?'

Ian quirked an eyebrow. ‘Is that even a question?’

Mickey grinned and pulled his shirt off. ‘Got a bed?’

Ian stood and walked to his room, dropping his shirt. ‘Hurry up then.’

 

* * *

 

This was the best idea Mickey had had in a while.

Ian had him pushed against the door of his bedroom (“My best friend is staying with me… Don’t want to… Fuck do that again.”) with his hands pinned above his head. He chuckled when Mickey made a low sound in his throat.

'Let me  _go_.’ Mickey said. ‘Pants off.’

Ian happily obliged and had his pants kicked away in record time. He dived back to Mickey’s mouth and pushed his fumbling hands away to undo the button himself. Ian yanked Mickey’s jeans down and made a surprised noise. ‘Commando, huh?’

Mickey shrugged and said, ‘I just don’t give a shit.’

That seemed unrelated to Ian but he ignored it and went back to kissing Mickey. He made his way down Mickey’s neck and ran his hands down his back, grabbing his waist and pulling Mickey closer as Ian walked them back towards his bed.

'How're we doing this?' Ian murmured against Mickey's neck.

'Just shut the fuck up and get on me, Gallagher.' Mickey said, crawling to the centre of Ian's bed and assuming the position.

'God, you're eager.' Ian laughed and went over to his bedside table. 'You clean?'

'Yeah. You?'

'Course.' Ian chucked a bottle of lube towards Mickey. 'Condom?'

'Don't give a shit just fucking get on me.'

Ian shrugged and knelt between Mickey’s legs, humming as he slicked up a couple of fingers. ‘Ready?’

'Just fucking  _do it_.’ Mickey growled.

Ian smiled to himself and pressed a finger inside Mickey, still humming.

'Gallagher, for fuck's sake!' Mickey cried, turning back towards Ian angrily. ' _Fucking do_  it.’ _  
_

'Jesus, aren't you bossy?' Ian said, shoving another finger in and twisting, eliciting a hiss from Mickey.

Mickey rolled his eyes. ‘I swear to God if you don’t shove something that aren’t fingers into my ass in the next five seconds, I’ll fucking break them.’

Ian raised his eyebrows. ‘If you’re sure..?’

'Fuck, Gallagher, just do it!'

Ian removed his fingers and pushed himself unceremoniously into Mickey. He sighed, reveling in the feel of Mickey around him.

'You gonna fucking move?'

'Chatty, aren't we?' Ian smirked, beginning to move slowly. He pulled out almost fully before pushing back in.

Ian set up a good pace, and thought Mickey had finally run out of comments before hearing, ‘Harder, fuck.’

Ian rolled his eyes but acquiesced and his pace turned almost brutal. 

Mickey moaned and shoved his face into one of Ian’s pillows, not commenting anymore, except for the occasional, ‘Fuck.' The change of angle had Ian hitting a great spot for Mickey and soon, he felt himself reaching the edge. ‘Ah shit. I’m gonna…’

Ian nodded emphatically in agreement and said, ‘Yeah.’

Mickey came first, and Ian not soon after. They collapsed onto Ian’s bed and looked at each other, grins spreading across their faces, before looking away and up to the ceiling.

After a few minutes, Ian said, ‘You wanna stay?’

Mickey shrugged. ‘Why the fuck not.’

 

* * *

 

Next morning, there was a knock on Ian’s door.

'Yeah.' Ian mumbled, head buried in Mickey's shoulder. 'What?'

The door cracked open and a head poked in. ‘Hey, I just got back. Taking a shower, so yeah.’

Ian gave a thumbs up. ‘Go for it.’

'Looks like you had a good night,' the voice continued. 'He asleep?'

'Yeah.'

'Kay. If you're gonna make breakfast, leave me some.'

'Will do.' Ian nodded. 

Mickey’s eyes flicked open as soon as the door shut and he rolled onto his back to look down at Ian. ‘Ay, who’d you say was staying with you?’

'My best friend. She moved up here from Chicago a couple weeks ago. Why?'

Mickey made a move to stand. ‘Fuck.’

'What is it?' Ian asked.

'That's my sister.' Mickey hissed.

Ian’s eyes widened. ‘You’re the runaway Milkovich?’

'The what?'

'Mickey Milkovich. I shoulda known.' Ian ran a hand through his hair. 'Fuck me.'

'I'm going.' Mickey said, pulling his jeans on. 'Tell Mandy I was here and I'll kill you.'

Ian put his hands up in surrender. ‘Okay, whatever. You want breakfast?’

'What?' Mickey asked, searching for his shirt before realising it was on the couch. 'No, I don't want breakfast.'

'She's a girl. She'll be like half an hour. There's time for breakfast.'

Mickey looked back to Ian. ‘No.’

Ian nodded. ‘Yeah, knew it was a long shot.’ he stood up, pulling a pair of boxers on.

Mickey rolled his eyes and went to find his shirt. Unfortunately for him, the kitchen and living room were basically the same room, only separated by a low bench.

As he tugged his shirt out from where it had somehow gotten wedged between the cushions, Mickey heard a gasp.

'Mickey?'

 _Fuck_. He stood and calmly tugged his shirt over his head before turning around. ‘Mandy.’

Mandy put her glass of water on the bench and stared at him.

'Hey, so I'll see you at work?' Ian said, entering the room.

'Ian?'

'Mandy?' Ian looked at Mickey. 'Well this is awkward.'

'You're fucking my brother?' she asked.

'Didn't know he was your brother.' Ian shrugged. 'But uh.'

'Is he the dude you said you've had a crush on for ages?' Ian blushed while Mandy turned on Mickey. 'You work in a gay club?'

Mickey took a few steps back. ‘Hey, hey, calm down.’

'Not likely!' Mandy said, surprising Mickey by pulling him into a fierce hug. 'You fucking asshole.'

'Yeah, yeah. I know.' Mickey said, wrapping his arms around his sister. 'Didn't know you knew Gallagher.'

'Yeah well. Didn't know you were fucking him.'

'He doesn't-' Ian started, but stopped, catching the look on Mickey's face. 'Uh so, you staying for breakfast now?'

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

_Original post can be found[here](http://im-not-his-keeper.tumblr.com/post/83292581527/prompt-both-ian-and-mick-are-dancers-in-the-same-club)._


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